First Flight
by ardavenport
Summary: Knight Qui-Gon Jinn finds his first Padawan in the wake of a horde of Jedi younglings. This Padawan also appears in my story 'Growing Pains'.


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First Flight**

by ardavenport

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'One of the most common misconceptions about Jedi is that they can fly.'

Qui-Gon Jinn remembered saying these words to a Senate lawyer only a few days ago. She had been a young lawyer, but she'd said she had grown up on Curoscant, so Qui-Gon was surprised when she had inquired if he needed a ride back to the Temple or if he would fly back on his own.

Had she ever seen any Jedi Masters zipping through the busy Coruscant skylanes? Qui-Gon had refrained from asking the question out loud, but he thought not.

But if she could see him now, he reflected, she might have resumed her original misconception.

Qui-Gon stood in a line of thirteen Jedi Knights dressed only in ordinary tunics, without their robes. They were spaced a few paces apart. Several of them looked up at the balcony above expectantly. He knew a few of them who were close to his age, Limma Trun with her boundless energy and somber Yum'Tiz. Others he was acquainted with. About half of them were young, like himself, knighted in the last few years, while others were older Masters who had already trained one or two Padawans to knighthood.

None of them were had an apprentice...at the moment.

Artificial light streamed down from the tall, simulant windows behind them. Though it was a large, spacious room, it was a minor hall in the Jedi Temple. It had a name, but everyone called it the 'Creche Court' or just 'the Court'.

As the name implied, it was the large hall immediately adjacent to the Temple Creche where all of the young initiates lived and trained. It had pale yellow walls with a few leafy plants in the corners and storage bins for play equipment. The floor had a familiar pattern of green and brown squares with black and tan lines running through it and curling into decorative patterns at the edges.

He hadn't been in the Court in years, but Qui-Gon knew that floor very well. Large as the room was, it felt oddly small to Qui-Gon, but he was twice the height he'd been when he'd last played in this room, so he supposed that this wasn't surprising.

Above them the noise increased.

The Creche Masters had removed the railing from the balcony and dozens of older initiates peered down at what awaited them down below. They were all dressed in similar off-white tunics; miniature Jedi clothes, but all essentially the same compared to the varied browns and tans and off-whites of the Knights. Many were Humanoid, though there were several species and they were aged from eight years to twelve with most of them being somewhere between those extremes. That was what the Creche Masters had said of them earlier.

Years ago, Qui-Gon had been in their place and his future Master, Dooku, had waited for the younglings to come to him. Qui-Gon didn't remember seeing him amidst all the excitement, though Dooku had informed him later that he had done very well, impressively so.

One of the Creche Masters clapped his paws together for attention. The younglings all went silent.

"Line up. You know your places," Creche Master Mrrkinr commanded. The heavy-set Master walked the edge of balcony when the younglings had assembled into thirteen columns that faced the precipice. He swatted a few eager ones back a pace with his long-haired tail. His tail, ears and forepaws were as dark and shiny a purple as when he had been a young Jedi Knight, but the fur on the face had faded, almost to lavender, with age.

Reaching the end of the rows, Mrrkinr turned to inspect his 'troops'. He waited until all the whispering and fidgeting had died down, his silence and his stare commanding them better than any spoken word.

"The Force is strong with you, young ones. You have learned much. You have attained the focus you need to use it, to lighten your descend. The Force flows through you, from here, to the floor below." The children stared back, waiting. Mrrkinr impatiently swished his tail. "Begin."

The columns moved forward. Qui-Gon stared up at a round-faced Twi-lek boy with pale green skin and a nervous expression. A child near the end of the columns jumped down to the waiting Knight below. Then another and another.

Qui-Gon held his arms out, feeling the Force in himself, in the room, in the Knights on either side of him and in the stirrings of the younglings. The boy above closed his eyes, knowing that he had to go. He didn't jump like some of the others; he just put one foot forward and walked off the edge. Arms and legs spread wide from his body, he fell...and slowed.

The Force swelled in the boy and Qui-Gon reached up to meet him. His hands caught him about the middle and Qui-Gon swung him down around behind him so the was standing on his feet. The boy's eyes sprang open; they were a dark shade of green.

"Go on," Qui-Gon told him. "You did well." The boy's surprise lasted for only a fraction of a second before he whirled, his head lekku flying behind him. Other younglings ran with him, to a pair of Creche Masters who directed them through an archway that led to a corridor, then to another turn and up many stairways, back to the balcony to go again. When he was their age Qui-Gon had rushed up that stairway nine times before the Masters had stopped the exercise.

Qui-Gon felt a warning in the Force. He whirled, his hands reaching upward. The next child, an eager girl with dark blonde curls, had jumped out from the ledge before Qui-Gon was ready. And before she was.

She fell like a stone.

Qui-Gon caught her easily.

Swinging her back around behind him, he planted her on her feet, but he kept a firm grip on her shoulder. She trembled and looked as if she were about to break out into tears. Qui-Gon sensed her shock; this child was not accustomed to such mistakes. He held up a stern, warning finger to her face.

"You are not focused, young one. You must try again." He did not spare her feelings. She would not have been in the line if the Creche Masters didn't think that she was capable. She needed an extra prodding from him to move on to run to the Creche Masters to go up the stairs for another turn.

Qui-Gon looked upward again. Another girl, with dark brown skin and no hair, silently pleaded for his permission to go with her wide-eyed stare. He lifted his arms to her. She jumped off.

He and the other Knights in the Court caught an apparently never-ending supply of falling children. When his column ran out, children who had already jumped were ready to go. The Creche Masters made sure to place them in different columns when they returned, ensuring that the Knights got to see as many of them as possible.

The strength of the Force seemed to grow in them as they improved with each jump. Qui-Gon and the other Knights smiled and some laughed as the exercise continued. It was hardly any work at all. The younglings squealed now when the Knights released them. They jumped and skipped and ran eagerly to the archway for another turn.

Qui-Gon awkwardly caught one boy who tried to land on his own feet. His long ears drooped down as Qui-Gon admonished him for not working together with him for the catch, but he eagerly ran on with the others for another try. The noise of laughing and many small feet running filled the Court as well as the energy of the Force. Qui-Gon felt it in each child he caught, living, flowing through them, sometimes strongly, sometimes haltingly with uncertainty, but he felt it with all of them.

"One more turn," Mrrkinr announced from the Court floor. He now stood by the archway.

'One more turn,' for each child still meant many younglings for Qui-Gon and the others to catch. They came down, slowing their descent with confidence this time. Qui-Gon set girls and boys of several species on their feet before they bounded off. The Creche Masters gathered them up into a large group under the windows.

A Knight on Qui-Gon's left caught the last one to come down. He ran over and vanished into the huge group. Another Creche Master, L'Hom, called to for attention in her high, clear voice.

She and the other Creche Masters thanked the Jedi Knights who had assisted them for their students' first practical lesson with Force descent. The Knights bowed in return.

Then all the children, with one, loud, high-toned multi-voice thanked them. The Knights bowed again.

The Creche Master then let all the younglings scatter. Having accomplished their lesson, they were free to play for the remainder of the morning until the midday meal. The Knights were also free to linger.

Qui-Gon breathed in, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he scanned the room. The younglings were bright points of energy in the Force, but none of them stood out to him. Some clustered in groups while others seemed to invent games on the spot.

Knight Qui-Gon Jinn had returned to the Temple from his last mission many days ago. He had been invited to assist the Creche Masters with training some of the older initiates. The other Knights in the room, along with others who weren't required for this lesson, had received similar invitations, the Jedi Council's unsubtle hint that they might consider choosing a Padawan to train.

He scanned the room again. It was full of energy, much of it playful and undirected, but some of it nervous and expectant. Some of the young initiates looked at Qui-Gon and the other Knights with earnest yearning.

Qui-Gon drifted toward a couple of his fellow knights. Limma Trun admitted that she had a feeling about one young girl, she discreetly pointed out a, tall red-haired girl with a speckled complexion.

The conversation wondered from events at the Temple to the various missions that they had been on. All the while, Qui-Gon, and the others, remained aware of the crowd of children around them. The sunny Court echoed with their voices, the sounds of their feet jumping and running. A few of the other Knights had already left; one way or the other they were sure of their prospects of finding a Padawan in this group.

Qui-Gon had participated in other 'exercises' with the Creche Masters and other younglings in the past few days; meditation, lightsaber sparring, learning trips to the Archives and some of the more ancient parts of the Jedi Temple. Those had all been smaller groups of no more than twenty, but he'd sensed no particular connection with any of those initiates either. Qui-Gon felt no concern about it. There had hardly been any time to sense anything specific amidst the rush of jumping and catching and running.

The initiates in the Court thinned out considerably as they headed toward their midday meal. Qui-Gon's fellow Knights excused themselves and drifted away as well. Qui-Gon lingered, again comparing the reality of his old playground with his memories. The room grew quiet again. He looked down at the floor and counted the squares on the side of the room next to the windows.

Qui-Gon felt a warning through the Force. After hours of light, this was a shocking, dark and dire cloud. Without thinking, he whirled, looking upward.

One tiny initiate, clearly too young to be involved or even present for this lesson, stood at the very edge of the balcony. The railing had not been restored yet. The youngling, hardly more than a toddler, happily bounced and squealed and waved its arms at the nearly empty room before it.

Qui-Gon dove forward, arms outstretched. To his increased horror, the youngling saw the motion and leaned over the edge to look down at this new excitement.

There was a cry from above. A pair of hands grabbed the little one's pale tunic, and then the youngling vanished. Qui-Gon stared upward. Past the ledge, he could only see the room's ceiling, high above.

A youngling's voice warbled uncertainly. Then it rose, filling the Court with loud, earnest crying.

Qui-Gon gathered the Force to him. Powerful. Certain. Strong and focused, not at all like the lighter touches of the many younglings earlier.

Qui-Gon crouched and leapt upward.

He cleared the edge of the balcony easily; his eyes scanned the area where he knew the youngling was. An older initiate, arms clasped around the smaller one, stared back up at him in surprise. The toddler stared as well. Then it opened it's mouth with an audible intake of air.

Qui-Gon started. The wailing was much, much louder than it had been down on the floor of the Court. It looked like an ordinary humanoid youngling, but it had an extraordinary set of lungs. The toddler, having been denied the chance to plunge to it's death, now threw a magnificent tantrum, screaming injury and outrage as it pointed at Qui-Gon as the cause of it's torment. Frozen in place, Qui-Gon stared back, completely unable to offer comfort to sooth the huge disturbance that washed over him from the distressed youngling.

The older initiate picked up the little one and bounced it up and down, trying to both console and distract it. The toddler's face was pink and blotchy and wet, but the volume of it's crying went down. The older Initiate was still too young to have any Force influence, and Qui-Gon dared not use anything like that without a Creche Master's permission, but the little one's howls descended to something like more normal crying.

Qui-Gon sighed, wishing to learn this youngling's assurance with the little one, without resorting to Force influences.

Then Qui-Gon realized what he had just been thinking. The Force was strong with this youngling; he sensed it.

One of the Creche Masters rushed up to the pair.

"Tulit!" he cried. The older youngling smoothly handed the crying toddler up to the Master. The noise stopped immediately as the little one tried to latch onto the Creche Master's beard, but it only got a fist full of tunic as Master Notmuid anticipated the grab and smoothly swept his gray beard out of danger. Notmuid held the youngling up with one arm and admonished it for wandering. The youngling grabbed his finger. He shook his head and thanked the older Initiate, whose name was Boliv. With one critical glance toward Qui-Gon, the Creche Master excused himself and hustled the little one away.

Qui-Gon stood there and considered Boliv. The only thing about Boliv that indicated that she was indeed a 'she' were the small bumps at the front of her tunic. She was human, but as genderless as the toddler had been. She had short, straight dark hair, that was cut evenly all around her head. Her body and face were broad and square and her thick, dark eyebrows were so heavy that they practically met over her nose. She lowered her eyes, looking down at her booted toes, obviously not knowing how to respond to Qui-Gon's scrutiny, but he sensed no embarrassment from her.

"I must thank you as well, for rescuing the little one. I see you have been trained well." He bowed his head to her.

"Thank you, Master Knight," she accepted.

"Qui-Gon," he told her.

"Qui-Gon," she repeated very softly. Boliv didn't look away and Qui-Gon allowed her a moment to look him over before he turned back to the Court.

"I was going to the midday meal. Would you care to join me?" He looked back at her; his arm gesturing outward to the bright room below. Her brown eyes stared back at him. Then she walked forward and looked over the edge. There was no one waiting at the bottom to catch her this time. She pressed her lips together.

"I might need a little help," she admitted. Qui-Gon smiled down at her.

"I would be happy to show you." He took her hand and gathered the Force around them.

They jumped together.

**– End –**

(this story was first posted on tf.n: 13-July-2006)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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